


Savior Ink

by startswithhope



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, F/M, Scars, Strangers to Lovers, or potential lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 11:45:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10570632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startswithhope/pseuds/startswithhope
Summary: “Every artist has their signature and hers, well it’s cover-ups. Sometimes it’s to mask a now unwanted tat but her favorite is to cover a scar, or as she likes to explain to her clients, honor it. She gets a rush at taking something unwanted and turning into something to cherish.“





	

The heels of her boots are loud against the poured concrete floor of the hallway, the last quiet spot before reaching the constant swarm beyond the double swinging doors. Ten years in and she still quickens her pace to enter the one place she’s ever felt it in her heart to call home. The buzzing hits her like a lover’s embrace, melting the tension from her shoulders brought on by a restless night’s sleep.

Ruby’s client’s tongue is trapped between her red tipped fingers, slightly swollen from the shiny new  barbell piercing she’s securing with a sultry wink. Emma can practically feel the pheromones pulsing around the pair as the beautiful asian owner of said tongue blushes furiously as Ruby’s thumb brushes against her bottom lip. It doesn’t take a genius to know that Ruby will be offering to show this new client how to really make use of that piercing, with hands and tongue on demonstration devoid of any clothes.

Emma catches Belle’s eye from behind the counter and they share a knowing smile, both of them used to Ruby’s sexual adventures thanks to her love for giving the entire shop a very detailed play by play.

“Hey Ems, there’s coffee on your station.”

Ah, salvation. Belle is seriously the best, keeping this pack of lady tattoo artists organized and as drama free as possible, considering they’ve all gotten on the same damn cycle.

“What would I do without you?”

Belle just waves her off and goes back to adding to the schedule of appointments on the computer. There’s already three people waiting on the sunken leather couch in the front corner and Emma starts the process of getting her station set up for the day. Other than the appointment with Anton later on tonight to finally finish the intricate beanstalk tattoo on his back, she’s free for the rest of the day for walk-ins.

“I call dibs on stubbled and broody in the armchair, darling. He’s just this side of smarmy and I need the eye candy to help me wake up.”

“Whatever.”

Emma doesn’t even look up from her prep as Crue slinks by on wispy limbs towards her prey. Here’s hoping the guy wants a dog tattoo, cause that’s just about the only thing that woman is good at.

After giving her station a final once-over she looks up at Belle who points to the redhead on the couch as Emma’s first client of the day. She settles into a well practiced rhythm adding new pieces to her ever growing portfolio as the morning turns into afternoon. It’s as her limbs have finally stopped vibrating on her well deserved break that she hears the first call from Belle for “The Savior”. Yep, that’s her. Every artist has their signature and hers, well it’s cover-ups. Sometimes it’s to mask a now unwanted tat but her favorite is to cover a scar, or as she likes to explain to her clients, honor it. She gets a rush at taking something unwanted and turning into something to cherish. It’s not until she’s almost to the end of the hallway that she realizes she’s closed her hand around the tattoo on her own wrist, the one she gave herself when she was only 16.

“Emma, you good to do one more walk-in before Anton gets here?”

Looking up from her wrist to answer Belle, she nearly stumbles into the counter as her gaze locks with the bluest eyes she’s ever seen in real life. The owner of said eyes flashes a crooked smile and she has to look away from his dimple and that jawline and goddamn it’s been way too long since she’s had sex. Instant attraction swirls deep in her belly, but she takes a deep breath and gives her head a little shake - reminding herself that kicking it with clients has never once worked out in any way but dramatic and she is not a dramatic kinda gal.

Finally giving Belle her undivided attention, she leans her hip against the back counter and reaches for the paper Belle has been patiently holding up for her take. “Sure, what have we got?”

“Killian here wants to get that compass on his wrist, but this one definitely needs your expertise.”

The drawing in her hand is pretty good, but her mind already sees a few places to add some intricate details and shading to give the drawing a bit more life. Shifting her gaze from the paper to her client, Killian, she sees that he’s chewing a bit on his lip in an obvious sign of nerves.

“First tattoo?”

“No, just the first one like this, love.”

Ridiculously attractive and he has an accent? _Fucking fantastic_.

Time to work. Moving from behind the counter, she motions for Killian to follow her to her station in the corner. After setting his drawing on her table she turns and holds out her hand, realizing she hasn’t actually introduced herself.

“I’m Emma, by the way.”

There’s an interesting contrast to the warmth of his palm and the cold metal of the chunky rings on his finger and thumb as he shakes her hand. The rings and what looks to be a hint of eyeliner do help him pull off the broody rockstar look, but she’s got a sense that there’s a lot more to him than meets the eye.

“It’s a pleasure, Emma. I’m Killian.”

Dropping his hand, she gestures for him to sit on the chair as she pulls out her stool and swivels to face him.

“So, Belle said you want this on your wrist?”

The lip nibble is back briefly and she gives him a reassuring smile. He’s not the first nervous client to sit in that chair and he’ll certainly not be the last.

“Aye, but it’s a bit...complicated.”

“Oh, why’s that?”

He leans towards her suddenly, his face coming within about six inches of her own as he works to shrug the leather jacket off his shoulders behind him on the high-back chair. It’s only as his ringed hand moves to his other arm to pull it from the sleeve does everything become clear. She’d been so entranced by his handsome face that she hadn’t even noticed that he was missing his left hand - or maybe he’d been hiding it a bit. Reaching for his jacket, she takes it from his hand and deposits it on her table, giving him a moment to settle back in the chair. When she looks back he’s cradling his scarred wrist in his other hand atop his abdomen, his thumb brushing back and forth over the puckered skin.

“Is it too mangled for you to work with, love?” he asks, the slight catch in his voice making her heart pinch painfully in her chest.

Sliding her stool a bit closer, she lifts her chin to look at his face, waiting until he meets her eyes before she answers.

“No, I’m up for the challenge if you are.”

She knows she’s said the right thing when his lips curl up into a smile and he cocks his head towards her with his left eyebrow raised. “Aye, I love a challenge.”

In another situation she might bristle at his bravado, but she knows masking vulnerability when she sees it and gives him a pass. After about 20 minutes of discussion about placement and Killian agreeing enthusiastically with her ideas to improve the design, she’s ready to get started. Sliding over the mobile armrest so his elbow can rest comfortably, she leans over his arm and carefully places the stencil so north on the compass faces up his arm and the south point hits the blunted edge of his wrist. The bottom half of the tattoo will, indeed, be a challenge, as scar tissue can sometimes struggle to take ink and for Killian, the process may prove rather painful. But she’s explained all of this to him and he’s still on board.

Pulling off the stencil she’s happy with the placement, but looks up to Killian who gets the final say.

“That look good to you?”

He peers down at his wrist and back up to her before leaning his head back against the headrest. Closing his eyes, he lets out a deep breath and quietly says, “I trust you, Emma.”

Hearing a stranger say that to her shouldn’t feel so monumental, but it does. Her fingers squeeze lightly on his forearm in reassurance, but the act suddenly feels too intimate and she lets go. As she turns to her table to get her ointment she can feel his gaze burning into the side of her face, and her belly does another unwelcome swoop. She needs to get her head in the game here, cause this tattoo is going to be tough and she can’t afford any distractions, especially the dark and brooding kind sitting right here in her chair.

After coating his skin in ointment and readying her ink and gun, she’s forces herself to look up at Killian to make sure he’s good to go.

“I’m good, love.”

“Let’s get the hard part out of the way first. If you need me to stop, just let me know.”

“Aye.”

He’s silent as the needle touches his scarred skin, but she feels a slight flex of the muscle in his arm beneath where she’s holding him steady with her hand. She keeps going, working the black into the tough skin, thankful to see some of it still remain each time she wipes and goes in for another pass. The scar is completely healed, making it easier, but the skin is still raised and stretched in places, making the ink penetrate differently and a bit uneven. But she’d accounted for that, having explained to him that making the compass look more antique and slightly faded in areas would give the inconsistencies purpose in the overall design.

“Why did she call you The Savior earlier?”

So lost in her work, Emma almost flinches as his voice drags her out of her creative trance. Not looking up, she goes for more ink and continues working on the line she’s almost perfected.

“Because of this, working on scars, cover-ups, stuff like that. It’s kind of my speciality. The nickname started years ago and just stuck, so I roll with it.”

“Ah, well, I guess fate led me here, then.”

Shaking her head, she goes for more ink. “Nah, fate is bullshit.”

“You really think so, love?”

Looking into his eyes with her tattoo gun poised in the air, she tries to ascertain if he’s being serious.

“I like to think that my decisions matter, so yeah.”

He seems to be contemplating her, so she keeps her lips in a thin line, not breaking when he smiles and gives her a small nod. “Fair point.”

Turning back to tattoo, she focuses again on finishing the last bit of the design that falls within the scar tissue, her brows furrowing tight in concentration. When she wipes the last bit of excess ink away she feels a rush of pride at her own work, suddenly really excited for Killian to see this when it’s all done.

“You made it through the hardest part.”

“Yeah? Thank bloody fuck.”

His relieved laugh expels the tension he’d been successfully hiding from her and she can’t help but give his arm another squeeze, not caring anymore how intimate the action might be. He obviously needs a bit of comfort and it’s the least she can do. Once again, his muscles flex beneath her fingers in response, but this time she doesn’t let go.

In fact, she only lets go when she needs her hand to wipe at ink or add more ointment, her gloved hand finding it’s way back to his forearm as she works the rest of the design into his skin. Without the scars, she’s able to move a lot faster, quickly finishing the line work and moving on to add some shading and dimension.

“So, Emma, what decision lead you here, to be a tattoo artist?”

After so many years doing this, she’s finally used to this question, so she doesn’t flinch, but still stops to think about how much she wants to share. He doesn’t need to know that she was homeless, hungry and alone when she first stumbled into this place. And he really doesn’t need to know that she sends practically every dollar she earns anonymously to the woman raising her son. No, he really doesn’t need to know any of that.

So she tells him the truth, if not the entirety of it.

“I kinda stumbled into it and realized it was something I was good at. It’s interesting being a part of the story of other people’s lives, if you know what I mean?”

“You will definitely be a chapter in mine, Emma, that’s for sure.”

“Just a chapter?” The words are out of her mouth before she can stop herself, and with obvious flirtation behind each one.

“Hopefully a long one”, he replies, his voice having dropped down an octave and seemingly rolling through gravel deep in his chest.

If they were in a bar, flirting over some hard whiskey and stale pretzels, she’d be dragging him to the nearest solid surface to press her tongue along his skin to feel that rumble as it moves up his throat. But they are not in a bar and she needs to focus on her tattoo needle and not misguided fantasies based in alternate realities. To make her point clear in her own mind, she doesn’t reply to his returned flirtation, instead keeping her head down and eyes firmly on her work. She knows she needs to relax when the tension in her neck begins to scream at her. Turning away, she sets her gun on the table, snaps off her gloves and stretches her back, accidentally brushing his thigh with her hand as she cracks the knots in her spine.

“You alright there?”

“Yeah, just needed to work out a few kinks. You doing okay?”

“Aye, I’ve dealt with worse pain that this,” he says as he nods towards his wrist “as you can obviously imagine.”

“Mind if I ask how it happened?”

His head falls back against the headrest and he looks away, making her immediately regret asking the question.

“Sorry, you don’t…”

“No, it’s fine, love. It’s just, it was a long time ago, in another life - one that I’m doing my best to leave behind...”

She cuts him off with a slight touch of her hand to his knee.

“Let’s just leave it at that, then.”

His smile this time is full of gratitude and relief and briefly, she allows his hand to cover hers on his knee. Just as another misguided fantasy begins to take shape, she pulls her hand free and turns back to her table to work a new pair of gloves over her fingers. With gun inked up, she turns back and nods her head towards the armrest to let him know it’s time to continue. He’s still smiling and well, so is she, but neither of them speak again until she’s washing off the last of the ink and ointment with a wet paper towel.

“Well Killian, I think it’s time you got a good look at your new tattoo.”

“You’re done?”

He sounds almost a bit disappointed, which is the opposite of what she’s accustomed to hearing when finishing a client’s tattoo.

“All done.”

Watching him closely to gauge his honest reaction, she shuffles a bit on her stool as Killian turns his arm and looks down at her work. His eyes go wide as he moves his wrist around to see the details of the design and his mouth transforms into an absolutely radiant smile. When he looks up at her his eyes are a bit glassy from unshed tears and she doesn’t need him to say a word to know how much this must mean to him.

“You really are The Savior, Emma. I’m gobsmacked.”

Heat burns up her cheeks and she shakes her head, still after all these years not great at receiving compliments.

“I’m glad you like it, Killian. Do you mind if I take a photo before I wrap it?”

“Oh, of course, love. I’m happy to be a new addition to your portfolio.”

He’s flirting again and she’s feeling a bit off-balance, so she hurries to the back to grab her camera and take a steadying breath.

“You alright, Ems?”

It’s Belle and she’s leaning against the doorjamb with a look that’s equal parts concern and stubbornness, letting Emma know that she’s in for one of Belle’s well-practiced pep talks. Oddly enough, she’s kinda welcoming it.

“Okay, let me have it.”

Belle looks at her like she’s an alien for a second and Emma laughs, which only makes Belle’s expression shift again to something even more incredulous.

“I was going to tell you that you should ask Killian out, but I’m beginning to feel like you’ve already come to that same conclusion.”

“I’m not...well...completely averse to the idea. Which, I know, is against all of my rules…”

Belle interrupts, “But you’re totally vibing on him and he’s obviously vibing on you.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, then don’t let me keep you back here long enough to let you change your mind. Get the hell back out there!”

Belle practically drags her from the back room, a pretty amazing feat considering the sky high heels she’s wearing on the slippery linoleum floor. She’s humming under her breath as if nothing just happened as soon as she’s back behind the reception desk, but her eyes are locked on Emma’s giving her the encouragement she actually really needs. Killian is still staring at his tattoo when she gets back to her station and she has to quickly swat his fingers away as he goes to touch it.

“Don’t want to get it infected.”

“Ah, too right, love.”

He lets her arrange his arm just right so it catches the best light for the photo and she snaps a few shots from different angles, getting some close-ups of the scarred section for future reference for other clients. She talks him through all of the aftercare as she wraps his wrist in cling film, explaining that he should leave it covered for about four hours before washing it with soap and water. He listens intently, noting in his phone her suggestion of what ointment he should purchase at the drugstore to put over the tattoo as it heals. That’s when she makes her move.

“You’re welcome to call me if you have any questions or...whatever. Why don’t I give you my cell?”

His eyebrow raises almost to his hairline and she feels her heartbeat quicken in her chest waiting to hear his response.

“I’d love to get your number, Emma, but only if it’s so I can call you to ask you to join me for a drink sometime.”

Grabbing his phone from his hand, she adds herself to his contacts and presses the call button, letting it ring a few times so his number will show up on her missed calls. Handing it back, she pushes aside all of her insecurities and looks up at him with a hopeful smile.

“There’s a bar around the corner and I get off at eleven.”

**Author's Note:**

> I realize I left this right where the good stuff could possibly start, so I may revisit this later with a smutty part two. (eta: thanks to the amazing feedback I've received, I definitely plan to come back and write more of this. I really appreciate the lovely comments!)


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